Shreds

I miss me

All the thoughts I used to have in my head

Turned into conversations and debates by the voices

Of my consciousness, my brain, and of my heart

I miss all the things

That I was never able to say, so

I’d end up writing them down

In what I’d foolishly called poetry

I miss all the people that I could be around myself

When I wasn’t completely there

But it’s like I’ve moved on now

And I’ve forgotten to give my sanity, my insanity, and my heartbreak (twice-removed) my forwarding address

I miss the me that would see the glass as half empty

Yet whose demons would think of a way to fill that glass

But now, even those demons don’t come around

I miss them too

I miss the me that everyone thought I was, happy

Because my face has aged, concealing the youthful boy below

Like a mirror in a funhouse

But it’s no longer fun